Come all you bold young shantyboys and hear as I relateConcerning a young river boss and his untimely fate,Concerning a young river boss so handsome, true and brave,It was on the jam on Gerry's Rocks he met his watery grave.

It was on a Sunday morning as well you all will hear,Our jam was piled mountains high, we could not keep it clear.Our foreman cried "Turn out brave boys, with hearts devoid of fear,We'll break the jam on Gerry's Rocks, to Ellingtown we'll steer."

Some of the boys were willing while others they were not,To work on the jam on Sunday they did not think they ought,Till six of our Canadian boys all volunteered to goAnd smash the jam on Gerry's Rocks with their foreman, young Munroe.

They had not rolled off many logs when they heard his young voice say."I'll have you boys be on your guard, this jam will soon give way."His words were scarcely spoken when the jam did break and go,And carried off the Canadian lads and their foreman, young Munroe.

When the rest of those young shantymen the sad news they did hearIn search of their brave comrades to the riverside did steer,Meanwhile their mangled bodies afloading down did go,While dead and bleeding at the bank lay the corpse of young Munroe.

They buried him in sorrow's depths, it was on the first of May,On a green bank by the riverside there grew a hemlock gray,Enscribed on that gray hemlock by the riverside did growWas the name, the date of this sad fate of our foreman young Munroe.